The Tea Party
by Les Mots de Meaux
Summary: He did not recall inviting this particular guest to tea...Chapter Two, the final chapter, is now up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: One of my best friends persuaded me to finally put this fanfiction up here…So, here it is! Thank you!

A/N: This is mostly movie-verse; however, I have drawn much inspiration from the original book by Lewis Carroll. Therefore, I have placed this in the movie category.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland in any of its forms, nor am I Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, Walt Disney, or some other party involved with Alice in Wonderland. I make no money or profit from this in any way.

The day was cold. The sun was dull, releasing no warmth and only a little light. The sky was murky gray, leaving nothing to wonderful imagination. The wind did not blow; the stars did not rise.

The world was dying, slowly, and without any chance of recovery.

There was a garden, in a corner of this tearing world. It used to produce great crops and flowering plants. Freens and squars, vilips and roseifsdils used to flourish there.

Now, only grief and misery could grow.

In the center of this wasteland, a rickety table stood. It was of aged wood, with uneven legs. A ratty old tablecloth lay upon it, the once majestic violet faded to pale lavender. A broken teapot sat near the head of the table, and a few chipped teacups occupied spots as well. Tea stains speckled the ragged cloth.

There were three solemn occupants at the table, and all were mad. None were human, even, for humans were rather rare in this fractured fairytale world.

The first was a mouse, with tufts of gray fur peeking out between the once-brown fur. He slept often, but even in sleep one cannot escape misfortune. He wore a too-small rose jacket and a little hat out of a dented thimble.

The second was a hare, his eyes milky with age. His ears drooped, and his fur was uneven. He seldom spoke, except to request some butter for his tea or some milk for his bread. He wore a suit in once-prized black corduroy, but this too had grown old and torn.

The last was once sane. Others may disagree, but he only went insane at the same rate as the world he inhabited. Some may look at him and doubt he had ever had his marbles, but he, only he, knew the truth. But he chose rather often not to remember it.

His hair was an astonishing orange, his eyes a surprising emerald. His face was ashen white, and his fingers were discolored by mercury. He wore a pink shirt, followed by an amber waistcoat and maroon trousers. He wore a brown overcoat and a black cravat tied in a most peculiar fashion. Upon his head sat a top hat with a wide ribbon around the base. This is now, this is madness personified. He was not human, though he appeared ever so much to be so.

Beyond, a darkness stalked through the trees, unnoticed by the guests at the macabre tea party.

The mouse, the hare, the man…all were silent. The mouse slept, the hare stared, the man sat.

The man sat, yes. He sat in his chair at the head of the table, reaching forward every few moments to take a sip of tea. He sat up ramrod-straight, shoulders squared. His eyes were half-closed, but he was not fatigued. He was sane in an insane world.

The shadow stalked nearer, nearer, nearer…

Suddenly, the man jerked up, as if awakened from a dream. He scanned his gaze across the table, glancing at his companions. Slowly, he reached forward and poured himself a cup of tea; most of the tea spilled out of the broken teacup.

The darkness stalked ever closer.

The man grunted, voice broken from long disuse. "What is the day?" he murmured. He brought a hand up to brush down his coat, as if just meeting himself for the first time.

The mouse awoke in alarm. "Day?" he asked haltingly. The hare made no movements.

"Yes, day!" the man insisted. "What. Is. The. Day?"

The darkness made itself known.

"It is March the Fifth, Hatter, and you would be wise to remember it. Today is your birthday."

"I care not for birthdays, only unbirthdays. Where is she…?" the now-identified Hatter asked. Then, he squinted at the shape in front of him. "I don't recall inviting Lady Death to tea."

"You have not invited me, but when have I been one to wait patiently for a courteous invitation?" The darkness shifted into the shape of a woman, all black silk and fine fabric. She was pale and wore a flowing dark dress, making her seem positively ghost-like.

"Yes, of course. But now…now…" The Hatter trailed off, not in thought, but in the thought of being sane in a positively mad universe.

"Now, you shall be quiet, Tarrant." The Hatter rose from the table, knocking his teacup over. He did not bother to right it.

"Be quiet, ah, yes, be quiet! Always being quiet, yes, yes, yes! Oh, but you may talk, you may chatter…Y'may live! But I, no, not I. I mus' r'main, pushed-down, compli'nt to a rulin' I see unjust! Yes, ye and your unseen rules, plungin' m'forth into despair and 'orror… For ye would not let m'forget, not let m'forgive, oh, no…No, not that, not that small m'rcy for a simple 'atter! 'Stead Time, that cruel soul, keeps m' – "

"Hatter!" the mouse shrieked. The Hatter paused, mouth agape and eyes ablaze with amber flames. Then, something seemed to crack inside of him and his expression grew remorseful.

"I'm fine…" he whispered, returning to his seat. And still, in a smaller voice: "Downal wtyh Bluddy Behg Hid."

"Yes, Tarrant…I never much cared to engage in the politics of this positively raging world."

The hare stared from one to another, then glanced down at the table. He picked up a knife, hunting for the butter. "But it was the very best butter…" he murmured.

"And not a crumb in it!" the mouse exclaimed, then promptly fell back asleep.

The Hatter did not notice this exchange and so continued contemplating writing desks and ravens. The newcomer watched him.

"Tarrant?" she questioned. He glanced up at her. "Tarrant, I believe you are sane in a positively mad world…"

"Perhaps, if you look at it that way! But, you could also see it in contrariwise, where I am completely insane in a wond'rf'lly sane world! Why, jus' look at me! I'm c'mpletely d'ff'rnt from all other denizens of Und'rl'nd. None are 'xactly copies of me, so does that make m'insane…or does it make m'sane? There are no oth'r 'atters now! All the 'ightopp Clan…"

"Hatter!" the mouse yelled.

Hatter dropped his hands to his chest. "Fez," he murmured. "I'm fine!"

"No, you are not. I think you know that by now," the newcomer said. "You are broken, Tarrant, broken and bent."

"I am?" the Hatter questioned, playing with one of his greatcoat buttons.

"Think of what they did to you, Tarrant."

"I know what _she_ did to my family. Those children never got to see the sunrise of Witzend. Never made a fedora. Or a cap. Or a beret. The children, oh, that you took from me, from Underland!"

"Have you pondered joining them?"

"Increasingly then and decreasingly now. Yes, yes, of course I have. Guilt goes well with grief, though I much prefer M-words to G-words. And muchness seems severely lacking in these parts."

"Who, or what, is lacking in muchness?"

"I am," the Hatter brought his chin down against his chest, closing his bright emerald eyes. The newcomer watched him.

"I have solace. For you, Tarrant, I may grant solace."

"I don't intend upon meeting my death at this precise moment."

"Not solace in death, Tarrant, but solace in life. A new life."

"A new life? What could one such as you mean by that?"

"Life far from here. You would still be Tarrant, Hatter of Wonderland. However, you would be living in Overland."

"Overland? You mean where _she_ came from?"

"Alice, the child? Yes, Tarrant, that is Overland."

The Hatter jerked his head up, eyes ablaze with something akin the wonder. "How? When?" he asked, rising from his chair. "Now?"

"If you like."

"I do. Take me there."

The not-so-newcomer grinned, a rather frightening sight. But to the Hatter, who had a rather bone-chilling grin of his won, this made no affect. "If you are sure of it. Oh, and one last thing. You will remember everything. However, you will be a bit changed so as to fit in with Overland society."

"That's phantasmagorical!" Hatter exclaimed. He walked nearer to her. "Now."

"Underland will miss you."

"Yes, I'm sure. But for too long, I've suffered in silence. I've kept on ploughing on, just so Underland could have its Hatter. I've sacrificed myself for the Resistance. Yes, Downal Wyth Bluddy Behg Hid. But now, to go up and _live_, myself, not the life Underland thinks I ought to live." He paused and adjusted his hat. "Take me there."

The woman nodded and reached forward with a vial of dark liquid. "Drink," she ordered. He did as she bid.

Then, the world around him seemed to shift, and he felt a most curious sensation of falling _up._ At that point, the world dissolved into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Once again, thank you to mon bonne amie!

A/N 2: This takes place about one week after the events of the last chapter.

A/N 3: Yes, portions of this chapter are in French. However, I have provided French to English translations at the bottom of this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alice in Wonderland in any of its forms. In addition, I do not own the characters from Alice in Wonderland.

"Alice!" Helen Kingsleigh called. "Keep up, child. We must get you a new hat!" Alice pushed through the London crowd after her swiftly-moving mother.

"Why do I need a new hat?" she asked, finally catching up.

"You have a very important date in just one week, and you absolutely need a new hat!" Without pausing for more discussion, her mother pushed on, Alice having no choice but to follow.

They arrived at a quaint millinery shop with an ordinary sign outside the door. It displayed the name of the shop: Le Chepalier des Chapeaux. _The Hatter of Hats _Alice translated in her mind. How peculiar. She followed her mother into the shop.

Hats lay on every free surface, making the small room look even smaller. Alice could discern a top hat, a fedora, and a bowler, all side-by-side in no apparent order. She thought that the owner of the shop had to surely be mad!

Suddenly, the owner appeared from the back of the shop. He wore a large top hat upon his head, which barely served to keep his wild orange hair in order. His face was unusually pale and his eyes glinted green with madness, or perhaps a strange breed of sanity. He wore a dark brown frockcoat with black trousers and a violet waistcoat.

"Bonjour, madame et mademoiselle. Est-ce-que je peux vous aider?(1)" he asked, in a voice like a whisper.

Alice stared. A Frenchman in London…How strange! "Respond!" her mother muttered. Helen did not know French. However, Alice did. One of her tutors had been a native Frenchman, and he had taught her a bit of French in addition to mathematics and the science of the natural world.

«Eh…ma mère dit que j'ai besoin d'un nouveau chapeau.(2)»

« Et voulez-_vous_ un nouveaux chapeau ?(3) »

« Peut-être. Je ne sais pas.(4) »

« D'accord. Je vais vous trouve un bon chapeau !(5) » With that, he dashed off to the storeroom. When he returned a few seconds later, he held several hats. With the hats in his hands and the hat on his head, he reminded Alice of someone she once knew…in a dream…

«Ici», the man said, handing her a hat. «Essayez!(6)» Alice did, putting the hat upon her head. It was light blue, with white lace attached to the brim, almost as if it was a veil. However, it was far too short to be a proper veil, which made Alice smile.

«Parfait!» the man exclaimed. «Et vous, vous l'aimez?(7)» He eagerly awaited her response, a grin on his face.

«Merci, monsieur le chapelier! Cette chapeau est très bien!(8)»

« Mais, mademoiselle, essayez-ça. (9)» He handed her another hat. This one was red, with three little hatpins still stuck in it. However, it did appear finished. She tried it on, examining it in the mirror.

«Très excellente, monsieur. Mais, j'aime le plus la première chapeau. (10)»

« Vous voulez le deux ? Parlez à votre mère !(11) »

Alice turned to her mother. "Can I…"

"Alice, just get what you like. I'm going to find an _English _speaking hatter!" With that, she stormed out the door.

«C'est juste à deux, maintenant. Allez, mademoiselle, allons-y avec moi!(12)» He walked to the backroom, beckoning Alice to follow. She did, only a little hesitant about following an absolute stranger to a room in which they would most certainly be alone. Although he didn't feel like much of a stranger…

"Alice," he began. "I do speak English, you know."

"You can?" And how he knew her name…she could hardly guess. Perhaps he had overheard her and her mother talking…

"Yes, I can, dearest girl. I don't suppose you remember me. Last time I saw you, you thought I was a dream…or rather, part of a dream…" He reached forward to take her hands in his.

"I'm sorry, sir, but…" She began to pull away, but he tightened his hold upon her.

"No, thought you would, but of course not…Wouldn't remember me, I s'ppose. Couldn't be m'day for once, couldn't it? 'Course not! Y'had t'come 'ere, didn't ye? Why pain m'more?" He stumbled to a chair, sitting down with a sneer. "Y'just 'ad t'come, didn't ye? You're a liar. Yes, a liar! Y'told m'you'd rem'mber me. But, y'didn't. Shouldn't 'ave 'xpected more, no…Yes, you're a liar, tw'stin' me all up like that. Y'lied t'me. How could you do that t'me? How – "

"Hatter!" she shouted, then immediately put a hand over her mouth in surprise.

"Fez, fez, fez. I'm fine," he grimaced, slouching back into the chair.

"No, I don't think you are. What just happened to you?"

"It happens every now and again. And again. But not quite now. I didn't even get a warning!"

"What should I call you?"

"You ought to remember me. I'm Hatter, or as some like to say, the Mad Hatter. But that's not my name, that's my title. My name is Tarrant Hightopp of Witzend, and don't you be forgetting that too!'

"Tarrant."

"Yes?" He grinned a wild grin at her, like the grin of a certain disappearing cat.

"I think I have some catching up to do. And mother won't be back soon…"

"Attend the tale of an ordinary man who had everything and lost it all…"

French Translations (my notes in **bold**):  
1. "Hello, madame and mademoiselle. How can I help you?"  
2. "Eh...my mother says that I need a new hat."  
3. "And do _you_ want a new hat?"  
4. "Perhaps. I don't know."  
5. "Okay. I will find you a good hat!"  
6. "Try it!"  
7. "Perfect! And you, do you like it?  
8. "Thank you, monsieur le Hatter **(Hatter, in plain terms)**! This hat is very good!  
9. "But, mademoiselle, try this!"  
10. "Very excellent, sir. But, I like the first hat better.  
11. "Would you like both? Talk to your mother!"  
12. "It's just us two, now. Come, mademoiselle, come with me!


End file.
